"Hey, Deanne," said Lana.
I looked up at my best friend since junior high, my best friend in the whole wide world, someone I am honestly so grateful for in my life, because she has been there for me through thick and thin. I don't know what would have happened to me without her, especially during my moody teenage years.
Lana was a natural blonde with long straight hair, tall and thin, about five-nine, with a narrow face and light-blue eyes that reminded me of a summer day, her pretty face a pleasant painting, a remembrance of people taking a pleasant stroll through the park, something like that. Her hips were a little smaller than mine, her breasts definitely smaller than mine, only a B-cup, but she was most certainly prettier than I was, at least I thought so.
Today she was wearing light-blue bellbottoms matched with a purple paisley shirt, her long blonde hair set up with a dark brown plastic band, and this outfit was like she had stepped out of an old seventies film, a throwback to a style I hadn't seen outside of the movies.
"You said you had something important to tell me," said Lana.
I smiled up at her. Right now I was sitting outside the café at one of this little bistro's outdoor tables, a round metal table with metal chairs that had backs in a crisscrossed style that imitated wicker, all a pleasant white, all with large colorful red and white parasols affixed to poles within the centers of each table. I sipped my latte and felt my cheeks burn hot at the thought of having to explain myself to her.
I'd read about an embarrassing situation such as this one, read it in one of my ebooks, a situation similar to this one, a situation that was best told at a café just like this. That way...there was no scene. I knew Lana...She would not make a scene in public.
Who was I kidding? I was only lying to myself. She was going to make a scene no matter where I told her. It was inevitable. I was just going to have to deal with it.
You see, I had not seen Lana for...ooh...about eight months now. Not since graduation. We were both twenty-four, both actively seeking full-time careers but stuck in low-wage jobs, and both looking for a better life in general. We were the best of friends, and we had spoken over the phone and by text many, many times, but...I had actively avoided her all of this time, so our distance was my fault. It was my fault that I'd pushed her away, but we were meeting up now, because I had a little something important to tell her.
I, myself, was not as stunning a beauty as Lana. I was short, five-two, and normally a little heavy, about a hundred and forty pounds on the average, with a big butt and D-sized breasts. I had a cute face with brown eyes, but not beautiful, not like Lana's. Normally I wore my curly brown hair in a pony-tail, but I'd had it cut recently, had it cut so that it just draped a little past my ears, a style I wanted to try out. No, I was not as attractive as Lana, not in my eyes anyway, especially now with all of the weight I'd put on since graduation...I weighed a lot more than a hundred-forty right now.
Today I was wearing a sleeveless orange summer dress, the kind with the thin straps that draped over your bare shoulders and showed off your bustline. I wore comfortable white sneakers and white ankle socks, something that was not too hard on my feet, considering the condition I was in.
I grunted as I stood, and my cheeks flushed as Lana's blue eyes twinkled like stars at my swollen belly. Yes, my time for being 'overweight' was nearing its end, that end coming within just a few weeks.
"Oh...my...God!" grinned Lana. "Is this what you had to tell me!"
"Something like that," I said nervously.
"No wonder you were hiding from me!" said Lana.
She reached down and ran her right hand over my pregnant belly.
"I should have known it was something like this," breathed Lana. "Oh, this is...I'm so excited for you!"
"You might not be..." I whispered to myself.
"What's that?" asked Lana.
"N...Nothing," I said with a nervous smile.
Let me explain what I'm going to tell her, or rather, how this situation came to be. A little flashback is in order, a short explanation of what led up to this...this terrifying situation I'm currently in. Oh, it's not terrifying in the horror movie kind of way...nothing like that. It's terrifying in the 'losing your best friend forever' kind of way.
It all started right after graduation. Lana and I had just graduated from college, and we were driving back to Lana's dad's house. Lana lived with her father, and it was her car we were in, her little lima bean compact with that color I so hated. She drove as I rode shotgun, both of us giddy and excited from having just been released into the world as full-fledged adults.
"I really hope Dad is in a better mood," frowned Lana.
We pulled up into the driveway as she eased on the breaks and parked the car.
"He and Mom were really going at it even before the ceremony began," said Lana. "They can't be within a fifty-mile radius of each other without exploding."
"I don't know why," I shrugged as I unbuckled. "Your dad is hot. I can't imagine giving that fine piece of ass away."
"Oh, will you stop it!" grinned Lana as she gave me a light shove. "You're a little horndog, you know that?"
"Your dad's a total DILF," I replied in all honesty. "I'd fuck him."
"Eeeeew!" replied Lana, her face scrunched up into a look of horrified disgust.
We both laughed at my little joke. This was an old joke, something that had been repeated many times, but it never really got old for me...No, it did not.
We walked into the house, still dressed in our graduation gowns, our informal clothes beneath them, caps and diplomas in our hands. I had my small red backpack with me as well, that backpack containing my clothes and other necessities for my short stay with Lana. It was Friday night, and I'd be here until we left on Tuesday. That was four nights of friendship fun for the both of us before we had to say our goodbyes for a while.
"Dad!" called Lana. "We're back!"
Lana's dad walked out into the living room, and I must admit, I had to stop and study him. I always did when he was around, but I made sure it was on the sly, something I wouldn't get called out on.
I remember exactly what he was wearing that night. He still had on his light-grey formal button up with a black tie, a little gold clip on that tie, and he wore nice dark-tan slacks held up by a thick black belt with a gold buckle. On his feet were black socks and black dress shoes, those shoes polished to a spotless shine, and that nice little touch gave him a professional look that most men couldn't hope to achieve.
He had a handsome face, always clean shaven, with piercing grey eyes, broad lips, a sharply angled nose, and a square chin with a dimple in it. He was a natural blonde like Lana, though his hair was cut short save for the front where his bangs draped down past his temples. He was broad-chested and tall, at least five-eleven, and he kept fit for a man his age, though I didn't really know how old he was. There was a little bit of grey in his hair along the temples, but that didn't bother me. That simply added to Mr. Cross's mystique as an older, more experienced gentleman.
"There you are," frowned Lana's father. "Your mother just called. She wants you at Memories and Set Photography in an hour and a half."
